Read Online New Guinea Moon by Kate Constable - Free Book Online Page B

except when the Drama Club puts on a play. So you should let me practise, to keep my hand in.’
    â€˜Well, if it’s doing you a favour . . . ’ Suddenly Julie is desperate for Teddie to transform her into a movie star.
    â€˜If you don’t let her, she’ll practise on me.’ Andy grins and disappears.
    â€˜Your turn.’ Teddie sits Julie at the dressing table and sets to work.
    When she’s finished, Julie can feel the mask of foundation on her skin, smoothing away her spots and freckles, the sweep of mascara heavy on her lashes; she can taste the lipstick on her mouth. She stares at the unfamiliar reflection in the glass, a smoky-eyed, palelipped girl.
    â€˜Your eyes are quite pretty, actually,’ says Teddie dispassionately. ‘I love hazel eyes, you can bring out all sorts of colours in them. Now, one more thing . . . ’ She twists Julie’s hair up onto the top of her head and jabs it with pins, then teases out two wispy curls to frame her face. ‘Perfect.’
    The gold necklace at her throat glints as Julie turns her face this way and that. She doesn’t look like herself any more; it’s a relief.
    Julie steps out into the garden, feeling like a princess entering an enchanted kingdom. The brief Highland dusk gathers softly in the corners of the yard, the lanterns glow from the trees. Andy has set up a table with a bucket of punch, and Julie helps herself to a paper cup of the sweet, fruity brew. Just one cup , she argues with the phantom of her mother, it’s a party .
    â€˜Juliet!’ Andy wolf-whistles as she shyly twirls in front of him, and he seems to really mean it this time. He takes a drag of a cigarette, then holds it out to her. She shakes her head. ‘Sure?’ he says. ‘It’s hand-grown.’
    She smiles vaguely, thinking of the sheaves of tobacco at the market; then she smells the sweet smoke. ‘Is that from Gibbo’s garden?’
    Andy laughs, and shakes his head, refusing to answer. A gang of rowdy pilots from Colditz arrives, and they swarm over the garden. Clutching her paper cup, Julie retreats. She bumps into Gibbo, who materialises like a wraith at her shoulder.
    â€˜Silence is a friend who never betrays,’ he says.
    Julie nods, and gulps, and edges around the side of the house. The front garden looks out over the street from the top of the hill. Three spindly gum trees stand sentinel along the fence of bamboo stakes. Teddie and Andy haven’t decorated out here; perhaps they ran out of paper lanterns. Julie leans her elbows on the fence and stares at the primary school across the road. She can see it from Tony’s place too, but because the Spargos live at the top of the hill, the view is clearer here.
    â€˜That’s my old school.’
    Julie turns and there is Simon Murphy. Her heart gives a skip. He comes to stand beside her at the fence, and in the fading light he points out one building, raised on stilts, by itself on one side of the grounds. ‘That was my building, the A stream building.’
    â€˜So you were in the A stream? They told me that was just for —’ Julie skids to a halt.
    â€˜Just for expats?’ Simon looks her directly in the eye. ‘You don’t have to be European. If you speak English at home, you can go into the A stream. It’s just that not many Highlanders qualify.’
    â€˜But you do. Obviously . . . ’
    â€˜Obviously,’ he says dryly. ‘My father’s Australian. Irish-Australian. My mother was born in the village. I can speak her plestok — her tribal language, Pidgin, and English. Oh, and I did some French at school. But that’s pretty rusty now.’
    â€˜Are you at uni now?’ Julie grabs eagerly to change the subject.
    Simon gives a deep sigh. ‘I’m supposed to be on holidays. But I don’t think I’ll go back. Dad’s not getting any younger. He hasn’t said anything, but I